when I suspected her fainting might have betrayed more than poor diet. I fear the poor girl has got herself into trouble.
What a pity she did not have someone like Mary to guide and caution her as I do.
Journal of
Lieutenant John Shaw
15TH
O CTOBER 1916
I slept without dreams last night. It was like being freed from hell.
Opening my eyes this morning, I felt a vigour that had not stirred within me for weeks. The sky outside gleamed a deep, rich blue in the morning light. A more beautiful day could not be had.
Mary Seward appeared at her usual hour to fuss with my bedsheets and help lay out my breakfast. As usual my heart filled with delight at the sight of her.
Miss Seward is a most uncommon girl. I am lucky to have her in my company, but my time at the sanatorium soon comes to a close. I will return to Carfax Hall, and my friendship with her will end. I want so much for it to continue—to turn into something more. I have tried many times to express my feelings, but at each attempt, I find myself tongue-tied.
How can I tell Mary my feelings and not offend her? Worse, what if my feelings are not returned? I am so ignorant in matters of the heart, but I must take courage and hope I can make her understand.
L
ATER
I have done it, and I will explain all here.
“You’re looking well!” Mary approached me with her usual cheerful smile at the end of her evening rounds.
“I feel better and better each day,” I told her, smiling back. “And it is due to you that my improvement has been so rapid.”
“Nonsense,” Mary argued playfully. “How can changing sheets and taking temperatures be thanked for your recovery?”
“You misunderstand,” I corrected her.
“Really? How so?” she asked.
I frowned, searching again for the proper words.
“Lieutenant Shaw, what is the matter?” she asked when she noticed my expression. “Are you in pain?”
I shook my head, then gestured toward the chair next to my bed. She lowered herself gently into the seat.
“Miss Seward,” I began, “you have seen me brought so low. Even today I am ashamed that you witnessed my horrible state.”
She began to protest, but I interrupted.
“I am anxious to improve,” I continued, “because I want so much to show you the man I can be. A man I hope you will consider worthy of your continued company. I wish to ask you—may we continue to see each other after I am discharged from your care?”
She stared at me a moment, expressionless. I held my breath. This was not the response I had hoped for. Was she repelled by my suggestion?
My fear was banished in a moment, for her eyes warmed, and she smiled. “Lieutenant, your bravery and strength have proven you more than worthy. I should love to keep your company after you are discharged.”
I took her hand. Her small, soft fingers squeezed mine firmly. “My, you are very bold today,” she teased.
“I slept well,” I told her, smiling back. “No nightmares.”
“What nightmares are these?” Captain Harker’s voice came from behind us.
Mary and I both turned with a start. Neither of us had heard him approach. The surprise of him seeming to materialise at the end of my bed set my heart hammering. Mary let go of my hand and stood up.
“My nightmares of—of the trenches, sir,” I stammered.
“Ah …” he replied sympathetically. “That is to be expected. But you must put our time in France out of your mind if you are to focus on your recovery.”
There was a heavy pause. Mary looked away from Captain Harker, a troubled expression creasing her brow. I felt surprised. Did she have no greeting for the captain?
Captain Harker broke the silence. “Please, John. You must call me Quincey,” he announced. “It seems odd for you to call me ‘sir’ while your sister calls me by my first name.”
My mouth opened slightly in surprise. Had Lily and Harker grown so intimate in so short a time? I was about to ask that very question when Mary took a thermometer from her
What a pity she did not have someone like Mary to guide and caution her as I do.
Journal of
Lieutenant John Shaw
15TH
O CTOBER 1916
I slept without dreams last night. It was like being freed from hell.
Opening my eyes this morning, I felt a vigour that had not stirred within me for weeks. The sky outside gleamed a deep, rich blue in the morning light. A more beautiful day could not be had.
Mary Seward appeared at her usual hour to fuss with my bedsheets and help lay out my breakfast. As usual my heart filled with delight at the sight of her.
Miss Seward is a most uncommon girl. I am lucky to have her in my company, but my time at the sanatorium soon comes to a close. I will return to Carfax Hall, and my friendship with her will end. I want so much for it to continue—to turn into something more. I have tried many times to express my feelings, but at each attempt, I find myself tongue-tied.
How can I tell Mary my feelings and not offend her? Worse, what if my feelings are not returned? I am so ignorant in matters of the heart, but I must take courage and hope I can make her understand.
L
ATER
I have done it, and I will explain all here.
“You’re looking well!” Mary approached me with her usual cheerful smile at the end of her evening rounds.
“I feel better and better each day,” I told her, smiling back. “And it is due to you that my improvement has been so rapid.”
“Nonsense,” Mary argued playfully. “How can changing sheets and taking temperatures be thanked for your recovery?”
“You misunderstand,” I corrected her.
“Really? How so?” she asked.
I frowned, searching again for the proper words.
“Lieutenant Shaw, what is the matter?” she asked when she noticed my expression. “Are you in pain?”
I shook my head, then gestured toward the chair next to my bed. She lowered herself gently into the seat.
“Miss Seward,” I began, “you have seen me brought so low. Even today I am ashamed that you witnessed my horrible state.”
She began to protest, but I interrupted.
“I am anxious to improve,” I continued, “because I want so much to show you the man I can be. A man I hope you will consider worthy of your continued company. I wish to ask you—may we continue to see each other after I am discharged from your care?”
She stared at me a moment, expressionless. I held my breath. This was not the response I had hoped for. Was she repelled by my suggestion?
My fear was banished in a moment, for her eyes warmed, and she smiled. “Lieutenant, your bravery and strength have proven you more than worthy. I should love to keep your company after you are discharged.”
I took her hand. Her small, soft fingers squeezed mine firmly. “My, you are very bold today,” she teased.
“I slept well,” I told her, smiling back. “No nightmares.”
“What nightmares are these?” Captain Harker’s voice came from behind us.
Mary and I both turned with a start. Neither of us had heard him approach. The surprise of him seeming to materialise at the end of my bed set my heart hammering. Mary let go of my hand and stood up.
“My nightmares of—of the trenches, sir,” I stammered.
“Ah …” he replied sympathetically. “That is to be expected. But you must put our time in France out of your mind if you are to focus on your recovery.”
There was a heavy pause. Mary looked away from Captain Harker, a troubled expression creasing her brow. I felt surprised. Did she have no greeting for the captain?
Captain Harker broke the silence. “Please, John. You must call me Quincey,” he announced. “It seems odd for you to call me ‘sir’ while your sister calls me by my first name.”
My mouth opened slightly in surprise. Had Lily and Harker grown so intimate in so short a time? I was about to ask that very question when Mary took a thermometer from her
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